


Call Me Mistress

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domme Missy, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Sitting, Heavy BDSM, Masochism, Rough Sex, Spanking, Sub Doctor (Doctor Who), Sub Twelfth Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: The Doctor goes to the Vault to find Missy walking around in the nude.  It brings up memories, among other things.  She walks him down memory lane that results in some rough stuff.  Check the tags in case you're worried about triggers.





	Call Me Mistress

This wasn’t the first time he’d walked in and found her nude. Missy seemed to enjoy the new skin she was in, and when she was alone she’d often strip. The problem was that when he knocked, she just told him to come in. The first time she’d done it, he spun around so fast he hit his head on a cabinet and gotten quite a goose egg. This time she wasn’t playing the piano or picking what to wear, she was lying on a chaise lounger in the sun. That was it, just Missy laid out, dozing in the sun. It shouldn’t have gotten to him like it did, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from her. From her toes to the crown of her head, she wore nothing. Not even a stitch of make up. This was just her, and he had the distinct urge to crawl to her. That surprised the hell out of the Doctor because he hadn’t had that feeling in a hell of a long time. “Planning on saying anything or are you just going to stare at my breasts some more?” She turned, looking up at him with one quirked brow that meant business. The urge to drop was even stronger now. 

“You know it’s distracting when I come in here and you’re… you’re…”

“Naked, Doctor. Nude? Bare? Sans vêtements?” She didn’t move anything but her eyes, tracking him as he shifted nervously. “To be fair, I am wearing nail varnish.” She wiggled her fingers, her short nails painted a purple so dark it was nearly black. Well that was her in a nutshell, wasn’t it? So dark you think it’s hopeless, but when you look very closely… purple. “I don’t care if you look, just don’t be a silly twat about it. It’s flesh, no more, no less.” She gave herself a once over, “granted… I am pretty pleased with how things turned out. Could have done with a bit more height, but the legs….” Missy shifted a little, pointing her toe and flexing her foot. And now she really _was_ playing with him. Bored cat, indeed. 

“Your legs are….”

“What was that,” she turned to face him, legs falling one over the other. “You were about to compliment me.” Missy batted her eyelashes. 

“They’re adequate.” 

“You really do know the way to a girl’s hearts,” she said with a roll of her eyes before standing up. “You’ve ruined my reading and my sunbathing. Tell me what you want and then go. I’m cross with you.” Missy turned her back and he knew he shouldn’t but his eyes went right to her bottom. They focused on the keyhole that allowed just a small stream of light to pass through, wondering what the flesh that outlined it tasted like. He needed to go but was trying to find a way to do it without running. 

“But running is what you do best, Doctor,” Missy said as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. 

“Not fair, you shouldn’t be…” He tapped his temple. 

“I’m not.” Missy turned and walked toward him, the big red button you weren’t supposed to push in the flesh. “You’re just easy to read.” Her arms were relaxed at her sides, and it occurred to him that she wasn’t attempting to be threatening, wasn’t intruding, that all the worry was his own. It didn’t bode well for him getting sleep tonight. Well, that and the fact that he now knew what Missy’s breasts looked like in intimate detail. She just stood there, stripped bare. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?” She reached out to straighten his lapels and the Doctor’s fists tightened at his sides. “You can say it. It’s not as though I’m going to tell anybody,” she indicated the very empty room. 

“Say what?” 

“How you’re feeling, honey.” She bopped him on the tip of his nose with her index fingers before using it to draw a line down the front of his shirt. He knew he should stop her, that he really ought to grab her wrist, but he waited until she was nearly to his belt to follow through on her thoughts. “Oh… your silence speaks volumes, Doctor.” She clucked her tongue before pulling her arm away and heading toward her book. “Still a coward.” Missy shook her head, waves of brown hair rolling over her shoulders. He hadn’t realized how long it had gotten. “Really,” she demanded as she turned and planted her fists on her hips, “do I have to put on clothes to get you to speak to me?” 

“Sorry, you’re right. You’re right.”

“Remember that and it will save us a lot of time later,” she advised. “Honestly, Doctor. I’m comfortable in my skin, For the next nine hundred odd years, this is my … _home_ for all intents and purposes. I should be able to conduct myself accordingly. Yet here you come, judgmental as always.” 

“I’m not judgmental.”

“You are the most sanctimonious judgmental wanker I’ve ever known, and let’s not forget the time I’ve spent with The Lord President.” She narrowed her eyes at him as she walked to the peg in the corner and took down a deep purple robe, sliding the fabric around her body and tying it loosely at her waist. “Now why did you come in here?” 

“To see you.” “You’ve seen me,” she pointed out with a slowly raising eyebrow. 

“Yes, quite.” He shifted back on his heels a little bit. “Sorry. I wanted to tell you a story, but…” 

“You’re boring me,” Missy said with pursed lips. “Go away.” With that she went back to her chaise and returned to her book. He hadn’t a clue what to do, so he just stood there anxiously for awhile before he found himself a seat and a book, fully intending on waiting her out. It took a full three hours, but eventually she turned and stared at him, eyes blinking slowly. “Speak, Doctor.” 

“Yes, well…” And he continued as though the three hour pause hadn’t been there, telling her all about an adventure with Bill involving dragons and a very tall fish named Albert. It was a thing, apparently. Hell, everything was a thing these days. “… and she couldn’t reach it!” The Doctor was howling laughing by the time he was done, slapping his thigh and rolling around a little in his chair. Missy’s face remained unchanged. That didn’t bode well for him. 

“… you sat for three hours waiting to tell me that?” He nodded. “Three hours.” He knew he was about to get it and the Doctor was ready. “Your judgement is as sound and clear as ever, I see.” One sentence and she sliced right into him, purely masterful. Glorious. That was her, though. Glorious, masterful, spectacularly sexy. “You know, it’s a particular skill, Doctor.” 

“What is?” 

“Making someone who is supposed to be in solitary confinement for a thousand years want you to leave.” Missy got up and walked away, putting some distance between them. She truly was irritated. She put her back to him and he could see the tightness across her shoulders. He’d made some sort of misstep that he had no idea he’d done. She stood, arms lank at her sides as her shoulders deflated. This was her giving up and he didn’t like it one bit. The Doctor got up and went to her, touching her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “I was looking forward to you coming today.” She laughed tightly. “That’s the worst of it.”

“Will you sit with me and talk?” He kept his voice low, running his hand down her arm to take her hand. “I can make us some tea?” Missy glanced over her shoulder at him, tightening her fingers in his before giving him a small nod. He knew how hard that was for her and simply let it be, guiding her to the sofa before putting the kettle on. “Preferences?” 

“Orange,” she said absently, looking out the window. He could feel the emotion in her filling up the room and sitting on the sofa, Missy had curled her knees into her chest. She looked so small like that, as though she hadn’t brought worlds to their knees in this form and every other she’d been in. “Extra sweet,” she asked. 

“I know.” That got a little smile from her, just the tiniest touch but it was there. That gave him hope. “I want to make this bearable for you, Missy.” 

“Good luck with that,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “A thousand years the long way… all at once…. Just me, my thoughts, and you occasionally coming in to tell me dull stories and make bad tea.” She scoffed, “it’s almost as if we were married.” Missy stayed held together, knees to her chest, and her tone had no bite. She was just speaking, just filling up the space with what was supposed to be said. 

At least what she thought she was supposed to say and still be her. He felt for her, knew that it was hell to be stuck in one place. It had happened to him more than a few times though never for the stretch Missy was looking at. “I mean it,” the Doctor said softly. “I want to help make this better however I can.” 

“Let me out. I promise I won't tell anyone,” she said as she slowly turned to look at him. “Scout’s honor.” Missy batted long eyelashes at him as she uncurled herself. “Or is it something far less honorable you’re looking for?” The doctor stepped back, blinking. The kettle was on, but wasn’t whistling fast enough. As she slid across the couch toward him, the Doctor nearly willed the damned thing to screech. It didn’t before she reached him, running her fingertips down his arm. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.” 

“What?” The Doctor stood and tried to look nonchalant as he went to perch on the dias. He’d tipped his hand and they both knew it. 

She slipped from the couch, hips swinging as she walked. “Even when I’m dressed you look. I know you want to touch me, Theta.” There was that old name, that gut punch reminder that she was his oldest and dearest friend and enemy. She closed the gap but wasn’t touching him. He wanted to step back but he’d already put himself against the dais where her piano sat. “Sit down.” He did it without thinking. “Oh good boy.” Her hand sunk into his hair and the Doctor’s eyes closed on instinct. How long had it been since someone did that? How long had it been since he allowed someone to? She pulled and he looked at her, meeting the intrusiveness of her gaze with openness. 

Her nails sunk into his scalp as Missy moved in, straddling his lap in an easy move. His hands went to her waist on instinct, gripping tight because he didn’t want her to fall. Plus, he could keep her from settling herself on him. “Stop.” It was weak. Missy’s nails scraped down the back of his neck hard enough that he felt the harsh sting of barely opened skin in their wake. “Missy…” 

“That’s not my name,” she corrected him. “Say it correctly, Theta.” Her lips ran down his throat, teeth raking rough enough to hurt. “Say my name.” 

“Mistress,” he gasped, fingers clenching hard at her waist, digging into the thin fabric of her robe. It occurred all at once just how thin it was as he felt her settle in over his lap. 

“Do you remember the first time you got on your knees for me, Theta?” 

“Yes.” His voice was gravel under tire tread spitting out roughly. “Please…” She was moving against him in a slow rhythm, not pressing too much, but the heat of her was seeping through his trousers in intoxicating doses. “Mistress…”

“Remind me.” 

“I…” Her fingers sunk into his hair, twisting roughly until she bent his neck back and bared his whole throat. “M… Mistress,” he begged quietly, the tips of his pinkies flexing out to the curve of her backside. 

“Tell me, Theta.” Her voice resonated just under his jaw, her lips pressed to the spot under his jawbone, fleshy and tender as her teeth scraped his stubble. 

“We were boys,” the Doctor said softly, “you were hurting someone….” 

“Skip that,” her teeth sunk into his shoulder hard, getting a gasp because when had she pushed his jacket off? 

“I wanted it to be me.” 

“Masochist even then,” Missy teased. Her hands were under his shirt, pushing it up. “Take this off.” He did it without thinking, following her directions without question. This was so dangerous. This mindset was one he rarely engaged in. In fact, it had been lifetimes since he’d tried to be at heel for another person. “Keep talking,” she demanded as he felt a sharp pinch of his nipple. 

“Missy, I ….” The slap took him off guard. The Doctor just blinked. 

“What. Is. My. Name?” She punctuated each word with a pause, the last with a raised brow. 

Cheek still stinging, he hung his head. “Mistress.” The mix of pain and embarrassment was something that struck a gong in his guts. “I had come to see you.” She appreciated that he was continuing and granted him a soft kiss on the cheek she’d slapped. “To borrow a book. There was another boy over your knee.” The Doctor’s breathing became ragged as Missy’s hips started to twist. Blood was fleeing his brain at a rapid pace, leaving him rather full in other places. “I stood and watched.” The Doctor closed his eyes again, moaning softly because she felt amazing. 

“Then,” she asked softly, her hands moving to his chest. 

“Then… oh… I…” She drug her nails roughly down his chest, pulling chest hair on her way. “I… I … I….”  
“You… You… You… You humped the doorframe like an animal,” Missy provided. “Came in your trousers,” she reminded him. “What happened after you creamed your pants, Theta?” 

The vulgarity made his prick jump and the Doctor pressed his lips together to not give her the satisfaction of a moan. “You told the other boy to go.” 

“And?” Missy’s hands were over his nipples rubbing in slow, firm circles so they were trapped against her palms. It was maddening because she kept the pace exactly the same and ground down on him in the same pattern. There was no relief from either.

“And..a… and you punished me for watching.” The Doctor was about to beg for more, to sink his hands into her hair or push her robe off because the need was that strong. He ignored sex and his sexuality about 99% of the time, but he realized that it was because none were his species, but more so none were her. 

He would have told her all that if the kettle hadn’t whistled and she hadn’t hopped off his lap with a smirk and a little giggle. Honestly, she was going to give him a nervous collapse. She walked to the burner and turned it off, bending to fetch the sugar in a way that made him want to bury himself between her from behind. “Extra sweet?” Missy looked at him from that position and the Doctor was pretty sure he swore aloud. He couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears and the thrum of arousal steadily droning through his veins. She had him wound up to the point he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t process. His cheek stung, his skin was littered with bite and scratch marks, and his nipples felt like they could slice glass. 

The Doctor knew he shouldn’t be allowing this, that he should tell her no. Yet when she walked back to him with the tea tray in her hands as though she hadn’t just been grinding on him, he did as she’d not so subtly suggested and dropped from he edge of the dais to his knees. Tears started to flow from nowhere and Missy’s lips curled up in appreciation, leaning in slowly to lick the trail of one tear, all the while pressing the side of the hot ceramic steeping kettle to his chest. Missy turned and set the tray down, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. “You look good on your knees, Theta.” She reached down to grip the back of his neck, pushing him lower. “Lay prone.” She was rough, shoving him down then immediately stepping in behind him, pressing her foot in between his legs and tucking it in close to his body. 

He could feel the top of her foot against him, every intimate part of himself touching her through the thin, damp fabric of his trousers. “Mistress, please.” 

“That’s it, Theta.” She curled her toes up and he could feel them dig into the underside of his cock, catching him breathless. She shifted, slowly kneeling with one knee in the middle of his back, fingers twisting hard in his hair. Hard enough to bring tears to his eyes again. “Tell me what you want.” 

“Hurt me.” It wasn’t even a second before it was out of his mouth. She scraped her nails down his back down to his backside where she gripped it roughly then gave the cheek a hard slap. He grunted, biting his bottom lip because she had some power behind it. There was no build, she just smacked him. Then she did it again. Over and over in the same spot until he cried out for her. Then, as though nothing had happened, she stood and went to the kettle, pouring them both steaming cups of tea. 

The Doctor laid prone, forehead pressed to the carpet as he tried to catch his breath. His whole right cheek down the back of his thigh hurt like hell. “Come sit on the stairs,” Missy told him with a nod to the hard wooden stairs that led up to her piano. They were just a little narrow and the edge would dig into the place she’d been slapping. “And lose the trousers.” She picked up her teacup along with a sponge cake and walked to one of the plush chairs, curling herself up in it. “Don’t make me eat alone, Theta.” He scrambled up, shocking himself when he shucked his trousers off. “Boxers,” she said with a nod. “I imagined a pair of white y-fronts… this’ll do though.” There was that gong to the guts again. She had thought of him in states of undress. 

“Mistress,” he started. 

“Have your tea, Theta. Sit.” She nodded to the hard stairs and he went without a second thought. Sitting hurt and, as expected, the edge of the riser dug into what had to already be a bruise. “Now tell me more. Remind me how it was I punished you.” 

The Doctor didn’t think for a moment that she’d forgotten, but humored her. “… y… you stripped me down.” 

“Did you attempt to stop me?” He shook his head and looked away. “You already told me you wanted it to be you, Theta. No use in hiding. Tell me. How many times did you cum for me that night?” 

“Four,” he said without hesitation. “Four times.” 

“The last was dry,” she reminded him. “Just your prick jerking, desperately trying to push any little bit of seed out.” Missy gave him a soft smile then a dirty wink. “It was sweet.” Her gaze flicked down to his prick and the Doctor flushed. “He’s bigger this time around,” she nodded to the Doctor’s lap and he closed his legs on instinct. He was still covered by his boxers, but it felt like no impediment to her. “Show me.” The flush happened so fast the Doctor’s head spun. He paused with his teacup halfway to his mouth. “Come on then… give us a peek,” Missy insisted with a firm look at his lap. He set his teacup down, but hesitated. “Now.” Her voice put a steel rod in his spine and the Doctor straightened up and sat up to push his boxers down then off. 

Missy looked at him with a slow burn that made his prick swell. “Look at that big, fat, delicious head,” Missy complimented. The Doctor’s cheeks flushed and he fidgeted on the wooden riser, pulse pounding in his ears. He could see that she was effected, though. Her cheeks burned and he could barely see any color around her blown pupil. Knowing that it effected her made him feel less self conscious as his hand traveled to his prick, trying to half shield himself. “No. Show him off,” Missy told the Doctor. “He’s not a bad looking fellow. Lean back. Elbows on the dais, heels on the riser. Legs spread wide. Chop, chop.” Missy clapped briskly, giving him one of those looks. He froze and she raised a brow. It only took moments for him to comply after that look. 

“The male genitalia really isn’t that great most of the time. Nor, truth be told, is the female.” The Doctor disagreed but he let her continue without interruption. “But there are certain qualities that are appealing.” Missy shifted forward from her position, standing. Her robe hit just above the knee, flowing softly as she approached. “Me for example… I enjoy a set of strong thighs. Weak ones tire long before my libido does.” She touched the Doctor’s thighs. One hand was warmer than the other from holding her cup, but both sets of nails drug with equal pressure from the inside of his knee to his hips. “I also like a thick head. You’ve done well in that regard.” Her hand closed around his prick, holding him surely as the other hand came to the head , palm wide open to slowly rub. He let out a shuddering noise that he was not proud of and she laughed at him. “Keep your elbows on the dais,” she reminded him when he moved to touch her. “Spread your legs.” 

Missy kept up the same agonizing pace until he could hear the moisture gathering and feel the difference in the slide of his head against her palm. “Missy….” This time he didn’t get slapped, she just moved the hand from the head of his prick to his bollix and grabbed hard. The Doctor cursed in his first language, loud and coarse as he scrambled to get away from her. But she held fast, one hand gripping his shaft, the other with a death grip on his bollix. “Mistress… M… Mistress,” he corrected over and over until she let him go. She stepped back and he moved to close his posture. One look from her said that he wasn’t to do that and the Doctor forced himself to keep his legs open, elbows planted. 

“You’ve hurt my feelings,” she told him teasingly. “That’s twice you’ve disrespected my role here.” 

“Or twice you’ve pushed me past remembering my own name let alone yours.” He said it before his brain could tell his mouth to shut up. 

“Oh Theta…” She reached down to cup his face between her hands. “I’ve barely begun.” The Doctor held his breath as she wrapped long, thin fingers around his prick and stroked. She had a firm, sure hand that had him biting his bottom lip in minutes. She got him right to the edge then walked away, tidying up their tea. He went to move and she looked over her shoulder at him, “did I say you could move?” The Doctor loved it when she drew out her vowels like a Scot. The echo of his own current voice feeling right coming from her. He was well and truly gone over this woman, over his best friend and worst enemy and he was going to burn for it. The universe would pay him back for the moment he was taking with her now, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

The Doctor maintained the posture she demanded, trying very hard not to fidget as the hard wood dug into his backside. “Posture, Doctor,” Missy snapped at him and he sat up straight, forcing his muscles to hold him firm. She circled him, dragging the tie of her robe across his thighs as she passed around him, stepping up onto the dais to kneel behind him. The Doctor had no clue what was coming but he knew it was going to hurt and he knew he was going to love it. “Tip your head back,” she told him. He did and she pushed him down so that the back of his head was on the dais and the rest of his body was at odd angles against the rough wood risers. She’d put him near a corner, making it just that much more uncomfortable. The wood started to dig into his shoulders and the Doctor was ready to say something when Missy’s robe landed in his lap. He looked up just in time to see her thighs move to cover his face. 

The Doctor cursed low and harsh against Missy’s skin, nipping at the inside of her upper thigh and getting a sharp slap to his chest for it. “You know what to do,” Missy told him though it was quite muffled at the moment. But she was right. He did know what to do. The Doctor turned his head just a little and started to explore with tongue and lips. He had no visual input and she was blocking his hands. All he had was his mouth and the Doctor closed his eyes, deciding that he was entirely capable of doing this with his eyes closed. This was not his first rodeo, so to speak. Missy gripped his thighs, nails digging in hard and he knew he’d done something right because her hips stuttered a little. She drug her nails roughly up the insides of his thighs, no doubt actually drawing blood this time. At least that was what it felt like. 

By the time he was making her hips stutter more regularly, the Doctor was bloody well dying of a totally ignored erection. Missy was touching him everywhere _but_ where he wanted to be touched. Annoyed, his hands came to her waist, grabbing and holding her in place as he focused on her pleasure. She did squirm away a bit, but he held tight. Missy relaxed into him a moment later and that was followed by a sound that cut through him and made his cock jump in anticipation. This was Missy at climax. This was him having brought her there. The Doctor wished that he could see her face, that he could touch more than her waist right now. She was letting him hold her there but wouldn’t allow his hands anywhere else. 

When she’d taken her pleasure and his neck hurt like hell, Missy moved away. She rolled onto her side and stretched out, “you’re not half bad at that.” The Doctor didn’t know if he was allowed to move yet, but chanced turning his head to look at her more directly. “But you weren’t supposed to grab me.” Missy clucked her tongue at him. “You’re going to pay for that.” She reached out to card her fingers through his hair a few times before she twisted her fingers in it and pulled him closer. He made a noise of protest and she just pulled harder. “Get up and fetch me some water and my book.” The Doctor looked at her, surprised. She was going to read? “Well I did tell you that you were going to pay.” 

He was made to kneel on the bare floor and only move his hands from behind his back if he started to wilt. Clearly she had intentions for him, but right now he was expected to kneel and watch her lay there, nude and every inch intoxicatingly displayed. She was right, this was him paying. And she made him pay for his transgression not with physical pain… well not _just_ physical pain. Oh she knew him, knew his mind needed to be as engaged as his body was or he would become bored and wander off. But she had him. The Doctor’s mind was quieted only to thoughts of her, of what they could do together when Missy got to leave this vault. “Go sit on the chair,” Missy nodded to a large wingback chair near the window. The artificial sun was setting and the heaters cast it in a soft glow. “Do put a towel down first, though.” Missy went back to reading her book as the Doctor got up slowly, knees aching, back aching, cock _aching_. Still, he followed her directions, having to remind himself to go slow as not to make a total ass of himself. 

The Doctor settled in the chair and waited. And waited. Missy walked around, robe on but open so he’d get glimpses of bare flesh as she turned. She played with her hair as she read so it was quite explosive, coming from her head at odd angles here and there. His eyes tracked her as she moved around the room, unable to stop themselves from seeking out bare flesh. She wound her way to him, robe half shielding her. The Doctor was trembling in anticipation, waiting for her next move. When she bent and tilted his head up, her lips running over his, the Doctor thought his hearts might have both seized up at the same time. “You did well with your mouth, Theta.” There was his name again, short and soft from her lips. He groaned, not knowing if it was from the way she said his name or the compliment. Either way, it was embarrassing. “You really are an overwrought little puppy, aren’t you?” 

“You have had me waiting upwards of an hour now,” he pointed out. 

Missy’s fingers skated their way down his chest, palm just brushing the head of his cock as she slid it down. “Oh… poor Doctor. Have they turned blue?” She mocked him, tugging on his prick and making his aching balls jump. He made another totally undignified noise, growling at her in an attempt to cover it. “Growl at me again, young man and I’ll gag you.” She batted her lashes at him a few times and he found it incredibly disconcerting. That was something he would have mentioned had her hand not closed on his as she slid in over him, straddling his thighs, knees planted in the cushion against his thighs. “Are your hands clean, Theta?” 

“… my ha….” Then she was pulling his hand between her thighs and he got it. She guided him to where she wanted, pushing her body down on his fingers until they intruded, breaking through to a kind of heat that he’d nearly forgotten about. 

“That’s a good boy,” Missy ran her hands through his hair. “Finish me again and I’ll consider letting you properly roger me.” He took that for the challenge it was and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Did I say that you could….” But his lips crushed into hers, kissing her as the fingers inside started to move. It really was rather like riding a bike. It had been lifetimes since he’d been with a Gallifreyan woman and the anatomy was a little unique. But when you found the right spots it could all be quite nice. The Doctor moved his lips to that long, graceful throat. As he found the right spot inside, he must have found the right spot on her neck because Missy let out a soft moan that was 100% genuine. She didn’t have a lot of totally genuine moments so when she did they tended to resonate with the depth of a temple gong. 

Missy’s fingers sunk into his hair, holding him in place though he wouldn’t be peeled from her for anything. She let out another soft moan and he felt her hips change angle just a little. She was on the edge and the Doctor ran his teeth down her throat hard enough to leave a mark she’d be able to see later tonight. “My Mistress,” he whispered into her skin. She was glorious like this and it just got better because her climax took her moments later, his name on her lips. Not _Doctor_ , but _Theta._ It was a name no one else would ever hear from her lips, but he truly couldn’t get enough. He held out, keeping his rhythm and angle consistent and letting her body seek out what it needed while providing her every opportunity he could offer for completion. Her hips shuddered and Missy crushed his cheek to her breast, panting heavily. 

“Take me to bed, Theta.” It took her several minutes to muster that sentence, all of those minutes involving her kissing the bejesus out of him. The Doctor had barely gotten his breath before she was pulling him to his feet. She stood in front of him, close, robe open, and the Doctor could barely breathe for wanting her. Missy’s nails ran down the middle of his chest until she had her hand wrapped around his prick, stroking slowly. “There’s one thing,” she said with a cock of her head to the side. “Who’s going to be the bottom?” 

The Doctor blinked at her a few times before laughing. “… that’s never been you,” he quipped. She smirked. “Oh… oh my wait…” The Doctor did some mental gymnastics trying to figure out how he could be the one penetrating and yet she was still the top, so to speak. 

“Oh don’t think too hard. It’s diverting blood from where I need it.” She gave his cock a hard squeeze. “Now a beautiful woman has told you to take her to bed … and yet you haven’t moved,” Missy sighed, picking up the tie of her robe. 

“No… no,” he took the tie from her hand then boldly touched the hem of her robe, trailing his hands up the fabric as he parted it. Eventually he was touching her bare shoulders. “Don’t tie this up. As a matter of fact.” He gave the robe a little push and watched as she _accidentally_ missed catching it. 

“Why Theta…. Cheeky.” He got a little slap on his backside for that. “I should spank your bottom again. Though I’m afraid I’d break one of the small bones in my hand.” She’d often joked about his lack of backside and how it was like a skeleton’s bottom. 

Thoughts of another spanking tonight left him eager and a little too mouthy. “You don’t have to use your hand.” It was out before he could stop himself and she mocked his big, wide eyes with big, wide eyes of her own. 

“Oh, Theta… you are brilliant. Well… not brilliant,” she said as she ambled away, affording him an expansive look at her bottom. And it was a good one. “You’re smart…. ish. For a Lowborn,” Missy stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder and he knew the game was afoot. Whatever she wanted him to do, he was going to like it and so was she. Which meant pain. His cock jerked. “Kneel on the chaise facing the window.” Her brow moved up slowly, almost challenging him to tell her no. It was all he could do not to skip over there. Instead he forced himself to move slowly, definitely not bringing the hand he’d used to please Missy to his face to scratch an _itch_ near his lips. 

The Doctor knelt facing away, on display for her. Granted this was a lot nicer than kneeling on the bare floor. Still, it accomplished the same thing. Missy came to him and the Doctor strained his neck to see her. She was totally confident her skin, walking like this had been her body all her lives. He glanced down to note that she had a table tennis paddle in her hand. His eyes grew wide and she smiled making a gesture for him to turn around with her free hand. He did, hearts pounding faster and faster as her near silent steps grew closer and closer. He didn’t even care where she got it from. Missy ran the edge of the paddle up his thigh before turning it and giving the thigh a good slap. He felt it down in his muscles and knew that his girl didn’t start out light and it only got rougher from there. By the time he knew he’d have bruises tomorrow, the Doctor was whimpering. By the time he thought he could actually feel the bruises forming, the Doctor’s cock was weeping. “Mistress… M… Mistress….” His hands gripped the back of the chaise hard as she bruised him from buttocks to thigh. At some point he’d started to hold his breath, realizing it only when he started to see stars. 

She noticed too. Though she did probably go too far, she backed off and eventually laid the paddle down underneath him, coming around the front of the chaise to pull him in for a soft embrace. Missy hummed softly, a tune from their childhood, letting him catch his breath with his cheek to her breast. Her hands moved on him the whole time, through his hair, down his neck, up his sides. She never ventured lower than his stomach but it was quite enough. The lower half of him stung with pain and the upper half was singing with pleasure. Stuck in the middle was his poor prick. Damn she was good. His lips caressed any skin he could get to, finding a spot under her right breast, along a rib, that made her breath catch. Then there was one on her left side under that last rib that would make her shudder. “You have earned me, Theta.” 

His hands moved, finally freeing themselves from the back of the chaise to touch her. Then once he started, he couldn’t stop. The Doctor moved up, pulling her to him a little more roughly than he intended. She didn’t mind in the least, meeting his rough kiss with just as much force and passion. The cushioned chaise back lay between them and the Doctor was pretty sure he was boring a hole through to her about now. She stepped around between and in what seemed like a millisecond, he had her on her back underneath him. Long thighs wrapped round his waist and the Doctor could feel how ready she was. Missy held him between her folds, rubbing herself shamelessly against him as her teeth raked down his throat. The mix she maintained, the fine balance between pleasure and pain, kept him on a razor’s edge. He shifted against her and Missy’s body welcomed him after a brief, firm push. 

Missy lay under him letting out a string of obscenities from across the galaxy, probably to impress him but he thought that at least some of them were sincere. Especially as once he broke through the bit of resistance, she all but devoured him. If tasting a woman of his own species and feeling one for the first time in four lifetimes was amazing, being inside one… her specifically, made him feel as though he’d lost his mind for a moment. He rutted against her roughly, using her sounds as directions. If he liked the noise he was getting, he’d continue. And, so far, there was not one noise she’d made that didn’t send a bloody shockwave to his bollix. He seemed to have hit the right stride as her heels dug into the bruises she’d put on his backside, urging him on until she went rigid under him, her nails breaking through his skin at once, pinpoints explosions of pain. 

The Doctor watched Missy through hazy eyes, aroused beyond reasonable thought or action. “You’re glorious.” His fingers stroked down her sternum to her navel then back up. Missy trembled. She didn’t even attempt to cover the way she rose to his fingertips and the Doctor’s hips pumped harder than anticipated, overwhelmed by the sight.. the touch… the smell of her. “Please, Mistress….” 

“My first name,” she whispered, eyes liquid. She had spectacular eyes, dark enough to devour light with just enough reflective to make it feel as though she also created light. “Theta…”

The Doctor’s hand stroked over her hair, carefully pushing strands back from her face. “I need you. Please, Koschei.” Her tears fell in earnest now and all she could do was nod. He gathered her to him and kissed his dear friend hard enough to leave them both breathless. Missy made him sit back and came to rest in his lap, a position that allowed him to touch pretty much every inch of her. For that alone he was a fan. It went quickly from there, kissing that echoed thousands’ year old kisses on a dead then live planet. Her fingers found their way into his hair, twisting in it as she started to move. Missy’s hips shifted under his hands and the Doctor moved up into her. They found their rhythm quickly and soon enough he was ready. It was clear, though, that he was not in control of this. “Please… I’m… I’m close Koschei.” 

She caught his face in both hands and kissed him hard, twisting on his prick in response. The Doctor took that as a firm yes and started to move into her. He wasn’t proud of how desperate he sounded nor of how hard he was holding onto her. Still, he wasn’t going to stop doing either. He was right there, dancing back and forth between hurt and pleasure. Missy’s fingers had found his nipple and was mercilessly rubbing and pulling at it. It wasn’t until her mouth closed around it that he felt his bollix draw up and he knew he was ready. “Go on, Theta. Give me what’s mine,” she hissed before sinking her teeth into his shoulder. The Doctor came, crying out for her until his voice was hoarse and his mouth was dry. She held onto him, squeezing down around him as he finished, not willing to let him go. He pulled her into an exhausted, open mouthed kiss until all they could do was sit there, forehead to forehead breathing the same air. 

He winced when she finally pulled away, everything on his body beyond sensitive. It was like she’d gone fishing for every nerve ending in his body and set them on fire. Individually. “Next time,” she said as she booped the tip of his nose with her finger, “we see if we can beat your record of four. You’re more… nuanced in this form than you were in that one.” She stood before him, nude with his seed boldly displayed on the inside of her thigh. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“If you’re staying, I’m going to lie down.” It was as close to an invitation to cuddle as he was likely to get from her and he read it correctly because when they got to bed she laid with her back to him, waiting for him to lie down before she slipped back to press into him. When his arm came around her waist in an effort to find comfort, she brought her hands to it, guiding his hand to her lips so she could kiss his fingertips then lay them to rest between her hearts. The gesture was older than civilizations that had been born and died, and it was theirs. Her thin fingers laced between his and the Doctor felt the echo of the hands that had come before, all her but not. The vessel really didn’t really matter. When it came to them, it would always be Koschei and Theta Sigma. It would always be that old and that deep. It was going to be them at the end of the world watching it burn and the Doctor wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
